


A Shell of Who I Once Was

by kasswhy



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Blood, Child Abuse, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Gen, Genderqueer, Non-binary character, Origin Story, Original Character(s), Whipping, they/them pronouns, yes i wrote 2k words about a character i havent even played yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25982356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kasswhy/pseuds/kasswhy
Summary: Rowan, a lavender skinned half-elf bard, is kidnapped by the reigning kingdom when they are young. From then on, they are used to punish Noah, the young prince, as a "whipping child." This is their origin story.
Relationships: Rowan & Noah





	A Shell of Who I Once Was

**Author's Note:**

> I got carried away writing my next character's backstory, so I thought I'd post it! Please enjoy my angsty sad lil half-elf that I'm gonna play next! Most grammar "errors" are intentional for how they sounded in my head. Hope you enjoy!

Rowan was a happy kid with loving parents and friends everywhere in town. As a young child, Rowan’s genuine love and empathy for the townsfolk lifted even the grumpiest spirits. Their energy and kindness was infectious, and they were adored all across the town. They picked flowers and placed them in the men’s hair while they were hard at work. They entertained the children by swirling faint colorful lights in graceful patterns in the air with their magic, humming sweet tunes as they did so. But the highlight of Rowan’s day was when they sat in the town square, right on the edge of the beautiful fountain made of white marble, carved into the form of a smiling angel. They would sit directly in front of the angel, as if protected by its divine energy, and played from their lyre as the crowd gathered around them. The town seemed to brighten while they played, as if any shadow of darkness was removed from the town’s mind as the melodic chords drifted through the space.

Life was peaceful for the town; they were happy to daze through life one melody at a time, until Rowan was 6 years old. One unsuspecting day, Rowan's town was invaded by the kingdom's army in an attempt to take it over. Much of the town was ransacked, but most people were left unharmed, for no one put up much of a fight against the invaders. They were a small entertainment town, not ready to take on a full army. However, in their invasion, they kidnapped Rowan, tearing them from their mother’s arms as she cried out. But no one was able to help her. Later, no one could say why only Rowan was taken, especially not Rowan. Not immediately, at least.

They were taken to the king’s castle, and for a few weeks, Rowan was treated well and soon became best friends with the young prince, Noah, who resided there. Noah was the same age as Rowan, and they got along perfectly. For weeks, they lived in childhood bliss, blowing friendly kisses and ferociously knocking down each other’s block towers. Right as Rowan began to wonder why they had been taken away in the first place, they were called into the throne room with Noah and a large audience. Once settled, the king sat on his throne and glared at the prince, declaring his distaste for his son’s behavior as of late. “You’re too rambunctious,” he announced, “and you ignore what your caretakers ask of you. I will not accept this from a son of mine. It is time for your punishment.”

Rowan was lost in their worry, concerned they would have to watch their friend get yelled at by the king. However, they were ripped from their thoughts when a firm hand gripped their shoulder and threw them to the ground onto their stomach. They barely had time to process what was happening when they heard a loud crack and felt a horrible sting ripple across their back. Rowan cried out in insufferable agony. They barely heard Noah’s cries of horror, the pain too great to process anything else. Noah tried to run to Rowan, but a guard stopped him from moving. There was a pause, and Rowan saw the king look at the man behind them. Rowan tried to look at the king, hoping their face of sheer suffering would be enough, that the king would know the punishment had worked. The king looked at Rowan straight in the eye, and urged the man to continue. For what felt like an eternity, Rowan was whipped all across their back until they weren't able to move, their blood spread all across the floor, all in front of the castle's residents. In front of Noah. “That’s enough. I’m sure my son has learned his lesson. Isn’t that right, Noah?” the king said, a snide smile crawling across his lips. Noah’s only response was to fall to his knees in front of Rowan and sob into the floor, grasping Rowan’s bloody hand. The king ushered the rest of the crowd out of the room, leaving Rowan and Noah alone in their fear and misery.

From then on, until the prince became of age 12 years later, Rowan was forced to be a "whipping child": the child that endured the physical punishment Noah was not permitted to take as a future king. As the king would say, "There's no point in turning my son into damaged goods.” So Noah would be forced to watch his best friend endure it instead, which to Noah, was so much worse than getting beaten himself. Of course, Noah tried his best to prevent the punishments, but the king was cruel and harsh. Many times, Noah did not even know what he did wrong. He could only watch as his best friend was beaten within an inch of their life, helpless. The punishments were frequent; often, the wounds would just begin to close when another beating would occur. 

Rowan did not blame Noah at all for their torment, but Noah couldn’t help but feel responsible for the trials his friend faced. This guilt led Noah to help Rowan escape at age 16, when they felt they could take care of themself on their own. Noah gathered rations, water, a bedroll, a first aid kit, and as many survival supplies as he could fit inside a backpack for Rowan. Together, they were able to kill a guard standing alone in a hallway, stealing her armor and weapons to sneak Rowan out. At the door, they said their goodbyes, promising this would not be the last time they would meet. Rowan’s heart raced as they made it all the way to the outer gate, steps away from freedom. As they took their final step out of the castle, they felt the piercing pain of shredding skin as a crossbow bolt blasted into their shoulder. The force knocked them off their feet, and within seconds they were surrounded by the palace’s guards. 

Rowan braced themself for the beating of a lifetime for their attempted escape. But minutes passed, and nothing happened. Instead, after some time, the king’s face loomed over Rowan’s, his stare full of hatred and mischief. Finally, the king said, “Come with me, Rowan.” The king whispered something to the guards, and they ran off as the king and Rowan walked alone towards a carriage. “Rowan,” he said casually, as if they were having a Sunday stroll, “you know I really like you. I respect your willingness to...adapt. To difficult situations.” Rowan knew “difficult situations” meant torture. They were able to withstand torture. It took all of Rowan’s will to refrain from punching the king in the face right then and there. The only thing holding them back was knowing what could happen to Noah if they did it. “I know my miserable excuse for a son was a part of this. Tell me what he did and you’ll be spared for the day. I have something special planned for him.” Another horrible smile spread across his face.

Rowan froze where they stood. They could withstand _a lot_ : arrows, whips, fists, you name it. They’ve had years of practice. But they would never, _ever_ want that for Noah, would never put that on him. “Noah had nothing to do with this. It was all me.” Rowan bit the inside of their cheek, hoping the king would buy it. They didn’t know what they’d do if Noah got hurt.

“And the guard you killed? Noah had nothing to do with it?” The king’s doubt was obvious, but Rowan refused to budge.

“It was all me, sir.” A pause.

“All right. I believe you. But I wish it wasn’t true. Well, at least you will once I’m done.” He laughed with all the evil of the Abyss. “Follow me.”

The king led Rowan to the inside of a carriage. They rode in silence. Rowan had no clue what was going on, but they didn't want to risk asking. After enough time had passed that some of their anxiety had ebbed, Rowan realized they recognized the area they were driving through.

Oh no.

The familiar town came into view, although grimier and more eroded than they remembered. There seemed to be none of the usual fanfare and energy that roamed all through the town. As they got closer, Rowan could see another carriage, one of the king’s. And then another. And another.

_Oh no._

Suddenly, the doors to the other carriages burst open, and dozens of guards swarmed the area. Rowan could hear yelling and cries of confusion. They could see the guards gathering everyone into the center of the town, surrounding the once beautiful fountain, now covered in slime and muck, the water no longer spilling out in delicate streams across the angel. The guards threatened anyone who dared to move with their crossbows, putting them back in line.

“No,” Rowan whispered desperately. 

“This is what you wanted, young one.” The king cackled.

Rowan made for the door, but the king was too quick and grabbed their hand. He twisted it and brought his other arm down onto Rowan’s, fracturing the bones beneath. Rowan fought against him, but the king had them grappled, facing towards the window. The king breathed in their ear, “You will stay put and watch what you’ve done, or Noah will be next.” Rowan was still determined to help the people outside, but they knew they’d be no match for the king and his guards. So they sat, hoping help would come save the people they’ve loved their whole life.

But help never came.

Rowan watched as the guards finished gathering every citizen in town and herded them toward the fountain. Rowan cried as they saw all the guards lighting torches. Rowan tried to break from the king’s grasp as they saw the guards throw the torches onto every building and home. Rowan screamed as they realized there was nothing they could do but watch their former life burn into ash and dust. And Rowan sobbed when they caught the eyes of their parents, their faces alight with familiarity and joy for a few brief seconds. Rowan tried to scream out to them, to tell them that they love them, but 2 crossbow bolts struck both parents in the heart, death transforming their faces into twisted horrors, faces that would be burned into Rowan’s memory for the rest of their life. At that moment, a large piece of roofing from the burning buildings fell onto the statue, crashing into the wings of the angel, tearing them off. Rowan’s heart crushed into the smallest pieces. They cried silently as the screams of everyone and everything they’ve ever cared about, ever sang to, ever laughed with, pierced their ears, and everything burned into nothing. And suddenly, Rowan was nothing. 

After the demolition, the king brought Rowan back to the castle. He didn’t bother adding extra security; he knew the punishment had been enough. 

Rowan spent the next year dissociative and numb, a shell of the person they once were. Noah was filled with rage at his father, but there was nothing he could do but be there for his friend. The punishments still occurred, but emotion didn’t spread to Rowan’s face anymore. They had experienced it all. Yes it hurt, but it didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered to them anymore. Eventually, after a night with Noah, crying and screaming and raging, Rowan broke out of their shell, at least a little bit, though they were never the same. By the time some of the distance between the two had closed during those trying times, Noah became of age at eighteen, and Rowan was not needed anymore. Despite the cries and pleas from Noah, Rowan was tossed to the street with nothing but a few trinkets, a badge of honor from the king for providing their “services”, and a whip they stole out of spite. They had no job, no family, no home. And so they picked a random direction and walked. 

They eventually found their way into a town, and soon realized from the disgusted stares of the citizens that the scars on their back were going to be an issue with regular folk. They decided to get a tattoo to cover their entire back, to include the scars into the design. And so, today our adventurer roams from town to town: a friendly, chaotic half-elf weighed down and guarded by guilt and shame behind closed doors, a giant angel tattooed on their back to remind them what they’re fighting for; each feather outlined by a scar they earned. That they deserve.

**Author's Note:**

> If I'm missing any tags or warnings let me know!


End file.
